ASOBI SEKSU - Citrus

Shoegaze aesthetics over the last decade have combed through various corners of the indie landscape; that riff, as celestial as it is agonizingly noisy, has seeped out of just about every pore, to the point of tossing all its daring forebears back into the melting pot, following the usual cyclical habits of alternative circuits the world over.

The "dreamy" reabsorption of the nostalgic shoegaze wave first swept through rock's shores before gradually drifting toward other territories: from electro-clash to today's techno infatuation, forging a new metamorphosis step by step in rock's most celebrated exercise in navel-gazing; in essence, there's been a growing urge to lift one's eyes back up through dream-pop melodies of tried-and-tested propulsion.

In the East, such a disposition could only reap new and fiercely devoted followers, both due to a historical attraction to any form of celestial digression, and because of the never-hidden affinity of the properly "Japanese" sound world for the gaze-y model.

"Citrus" is something like the little "Treasure" of this new technical transposition.

"Pink Cloud Tracing Paper" outlines in full the eager merging of individual instruments within the average structure of the twelve tracks, luring you in like the old wolf of the woods: Yuki Chikudate's silvery voice progressively alternates with the bass's granite-like advances, the attitude always being to mar the accompanying nuance with slightly tedious chords, layering it over the heavenly vocals through a fair balance of decibels ("New Years"); nothing new under the sun, all already heard before, and yet enchantment is always just around the corner.

Asobi Seksu's strength lies in constantly updated melodic variation, a graceful, vaguely Oriental mannerism that shapes every single track.

Nothing is left to chance: the various guitar explosions that recur in the middle section of nearly every song follow no self-referential logic, but instead pursue a very precise fit within the puzzle.

"Citrus" is packed with candy-coated songs capable of sweetening the soul — just listen to "Thursday" on repeat until saturation to shake off whatever apathy, snag, or boredom happens to be plaguing you. Imaginative rhythmic contractions crash down with almost whip-like force, delivered with a gentle touch ("Strawberries"); a more measured approach, though never tame, covers every corner of "Strings", still brimming with sharp noise. The ability to personalize sounds that have by now become canonical, as already mentioned, is one of this band's added values: the songs flow directly and sincerely, banality is nowhere to be found, and there's not a shadow of repetition. Because while the electric charge of "Red Sea", with an ending sure to please noise-rock fanatics, sits right at the genre's edge (shoegaze, in case that wasn't clear), the dreamy pop à la The Glee Club (the unlucky siblings of the Cocteau Twins) of "Goodbye" draws interesting lines back to the glorious wave of heavenly craftsmen who roamed the indie world roughly 15 years ago.

A xylophone, celestial in its tinkling sound, slips discreetly into the following gem, "Lions and Tigers", still managing to weave freshly digested sounds into its guts. Solemn destabilizations feel simultaneously empty and full, delivered with a touching air ("Nefi+Girly"); the penultimate, dreamlike "Exotic Animal Paradise" fades away leaving an almost explosive trace. The icy sense of anguish that had been weighing on the listener disappears, like a gust of wind sifting through a pile of leaves, leading to the end: a small drop of lightheartedness ("Mizu Asobi") breaks the melody and leads into silence.

Those long, sad days that gather around an uncertain spring settle almost unwittingly into a handful of confessions so sincere; thoughts drift, scatter, and cling to nursery rhymes disguised as songs, decadent as a clear moonlit night.

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30/04/2026